


DINNER AND A SHOW

by Daughter_Of_Jove



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: BAMF Nick Burkhardt, Gen, Humor, Mild Language, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_Of_Jove/pseuds/Daughter_Of_Jove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BAMF!Nick goes from "Puppy Dog" Burkhardt to "Bulldog" Burkhardt and back to "Puppy Dog" again, all while fighting three thugs for his fellow officer's dinnertime entertainment. WARNING for foul language and minor violence. No gore. POST-BAD MOON RISING. First three chapters are complete within themselves. Chapter 4 begins an incomplete storyline that is unlikely to be continued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DINNER

Sgt. Franco couldn’t believe how incredibly crowded the Bar & Grille was for a Wednesday. The owner had apparently agreed to host a gathering of motorcycle enthusiasts on their way to Anaheim for a charity event, and the bikers were really packed in there. Griffin, Wu and various members of Portland Major Crimes were squeezed around a big circular booth by the front window, alternately scanning the menu and the street outside. The waitress was working her way through the room. She stopped at the table behind them.  
  
“What’ll it be, gents?”  
  
“Some of the gang went to get a new chain for Greg’s girl’s bike. They’ll be a few.”  
  
“Rosie, you moron. Greg’s dating Rosie. It’s the 21st century. Show a little respect.”  
  
The waitress – name-tagged Dorie – turned instead to take Major Crimes’ order.  
  
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, what’ll you have?”  
  
“Hey, wait a minute. Burkhardt isn’t here yet.”  
  
Dorie looked exasperated. She’d just fought her way through the crowd for nothing.  
  
“I’ll order for Nick.” Hank said.  
  
“Yeah, man. We’re hungry. Wu’s hungry,” Wu said.  
  
“And I have to get back to the office. Damn paperwork keeps piling up,” Sutherland added.  
  
“Besides, there he is now,” Hoyo pointed out.  
  
Sure enough, when Franco glanced outside Burkhardt was passing the window of the restaurant. He reached the door just ahead of a trio of toughs, who took exception to this. One of them – Spiky – slammed the door shut after Nick started to open it. Another, Mowhawk, shoved him from the door. Hard.  
  
Nick spread his hands and gestured for them to go first. They didn’t move. Spiky was clearly spoiling for a fight. Franco gave them the once over. Big and dangerous motorcycle toughs. The vast majority of motorcyclists – 99 percent – were law abiding citizens. Clearly these belonged to the other one percent. These three were big and bulky, their arms and legs laden with muscle. But at least none of them looked to be carrying guns.  
  
The cops nearest the aisles stood up to go and aid Nick. Unfortunately, the crowd had come to see the commotion and gathered around the window, blocking the way out.  
  
“What’s Burkhardt doing?”  
  
“He’s not gonna take them on alone?”  
  
“Even if they’re unarmed, that’s still dangerous.”  
  
Dangerous or not, Nick stood his ground. If these guys were spoiling for a fight, better they should pick it with a cop than a civilian. Franco figured Major Crimes would have a front row seat to seeing Nick “Puppy Dog” Burkhardt get his ass whooped. Granted, the kid had talent. But no way could he take on these three guys at once. Nick put his hand on his gun.  
  
“Police!” They heard faintly through the window and the din. “Freeze!”  
  
Motorcycle toughs spoiling for a fight don’t take directions too well. Spiky threw a jab. Nick batted it out of the way with his left while removing his right from his gun. Franco understood; Nick didn’t want to take a shot on a crowded street. Better the perps should get a few licks in and take a table inside, honor satisfied. Especially because Hank was calling it in and the thugs could be rounded up in just a few minutes. Nick would know his partner had his back.  
  
Then Spiky drew a knife. Not a puny switchblade either, but a big fucking knife. Mohawk followed suit. Buzzcut pulled his hands out of his pockets, revealing brass knuckles.  
  
“Oh, shit!” Dr. Harper muttered. But what could the cops do? They couldn’t shoot through the glass window without the bullets and the shrapnel endangering lives. They couldn’t push through the crowd in time to make a difference, although Wu, Sutherland and Hoyo were certainly making the effort. Someone in the crowd was yelling at the others to let the cops through, but everyone kept getting tangled up, trying to move out of the way while angling for a prime viewing area. Oddly enough, Griffin just stood there calm and seemingly unconcerned. Was Franco imagining things, or did Hank look like he was looking forward to seeing Nick getting pummeled? That couldn’t be right.  
  
At a roar from the crowd, Franco turned his eyes back to the fight.  
  
Nick was not getting pummeled.  
  
Just the opposite.  
  
Spiky charged Nick, swinging his blade. Nick intercepted the arm holding the blade and smoothly twisted to force Spiky down on his knees. At the same time as Spiky, Mohawk moved in. Franco noted he must be a Supernatural fan (a guilty pleasure Franco himself would never admit to) since Mohawk was wielding a replica of the wicked knife Sam Winchester owned that looked like a mini-scythe.  
  
Nick leaned back almost ninety degrees in a literally expletive-inspiring display as the knife passed harmlessly inches above his chest. Franco heard the bikers cursing and some of them were now yelling encouragement for Nick. Franco would never admit he developed a little man-crush of his own at exactly that moment. When I grow up I want to be as cool as you. Franco squelched the thought. Twice. Bets were being made on the outcome of the fight. The crowd kept getting louder. Franco could see money passing hands in his peripheral vision, but his main focus was on the fight.  
  
Mohawk had overextended and pulled his knife arm back, unintentionally giving Spiky a haircut in the process. Nick straightened and sent ex-Spiky tumbling before releasing him. Nick step-kicked Mohawk further back, before Mohawk could regain his center of balance. Mohawk toppled backwards, pin-wheeling his arms and suddenly looking very scared of his own knife. Nick stepped forward and grasped the wrist holding the knife, easing Mohawk gently to the ground. Then Nick’s left hand darted backwards and without even looking, Nick intercepted a motorcycle chain as Buzz whipped it towards Nick’s unprotected back.  
  
Franco hadn’t even seen Buzz pull the damn thing out, and he was looking right at him. How had Nick? Nick got a firm grip on the chain and pulled it smoothly from Buzz’s weak grip. Nick quickly used the chain to tie Mohawk’s hands together. Nick then stood up to face Buzzcut, pulling his handcuffs out in a grim parody of Buzz’s brass knuckles. Buzz swung. Nick dodged to the side. Buzz swung again and Nick dodged the other way, this time catching a cuff around the wrist that was swinging. Buzz tried pulling his arm back, but Nick held on tight. Then Nick swept Buzz’s legs out from under him, flipped him on his stomach, and reached over to finish cuffing Buzz’s hands behind his back.  
  
Ex-Spiky was just regaining his breath on the ground where Nick had thrown him. He spread his hands wide to show no threat.  
  
Game over.  
  
Score: 3-0 Nick.  
  
Franco decided to change Nick’s nick at the precinct to “Bulldog” Burkhardt.  
  
Nick pulled out his wallet to fetch his Miranda card. It distracted him at the crucial moment. Nick drew breath just in time to be rammed through the window by Rosie the Riveter gone bad.  
  
“Hands off my guy!” she yelled over the crashing of glass. Nick landed right on Major Crimes’ table with Rosie on top of him still screaming obscenities. His fellow officers were only too happy to pounce on her and place her under arrest after being unable to help earlier. A few stepped through the window to make sure the Three Stooges didn’t escape in the chaos.  
  
“Nick, you all right?” Doc Harper asked.  
  
“Fine.” He didn’t even need to catch his breath. Franco wondered if maybe he should increase his own workouts. “Was anyone hurt by the glass?”  
  
“The owner must have used safety glass. Thank God for that much at least,” Franco said. Franco looked around the table just to check that no one was hurt. His gaze skittered past Hank and reversed. Griffin was just standing there, hands in his pockets, grinning puckishly as he gazed down at Nick.  
  
“Nice job breaking it, Hero,” Hank teased.  
  
Nick smiled back as he looked at his partner, but then his smile disappeared. The other patrons had stopped their raucous encouragement and were standing quietly now in a half-circle around the police. Nick levered himself off the table and faced them, as did his fellow officers.  
  
One particularly burly motorcyclist headed straight for Nick. Nick shifted his weight, prepared for a sudden attack. The biker telegraphed movement, lifting his arm in a striking motion –  
  
Only for his arm to stop several feet shy of Nick, hand out, palm open. “Sorry about that. Some guys can be a little hot headed. Especially Greg and his friends. I hope you realize we aren’t all like that. Actually, we’re on our way to Anaheim for a charity ride.”  
  
Nick’s face brightened like the sun, cutting through the tension. They clasped hands. “I’ve always wanted to go to Disney.”  
  
Franco groaned. One perfectly bad-ass reputation shot to shit. Nick “Puppy Dog” Burkhardt it still was.  
  
A blaring siren heralded the arrival of backup outside. The officers poured out of their cars and began to clean up the mess of thugs Nick left outside. The bikers returned to their tables. Dorie sidled up to Nick and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Too cute. Then she handed him a dustpan and broom. Nick blinked and then got to work cleaning up the mess he made inside.  
  
Yup. Just like a chastened puppy.  
  
Franco groaned again. Perfectly bad-ass reputation shot to shit.


	2. DESSERT

D.A. Lauren Castro grumbled as she looked over the evidence. She had watched the tapes – the Bar & Grille, as well as the shop across the street, had a security camera out front. Between them, she had an unimpeded and uninterrupted view of the fight. And those… those criminals were going to get away with it! Or very nearly. Why, oh why couldn’t the state legislatures have included a more expansive definition of assault? Or why couldn’t Burkhardt have let himself get stabbed, just a little?  
  
§163.185 Assault in the first degree  
…Intentionally causes serious physical injury to another by means of a deadly or dangerous weapon…  
  
Well, the trio had used deadly weapons. But there was no physical injury. Grr. Well, there went one statute she couldn’t use. Okay, move on to the next.  
  
§ 163.175 Assault in the second degree  
…knowingly causes physical injury…  
  
There was that damned expression again. “Causes physical injury.” Moving on.  
  
§ 163.165 Assault in the third degree  
…While being aided by another person actually present, intentionally or knowingly causes physical injury to another;  
  
She thought that one over. Well, the thugs had worked together. Unfortunately, none of them had landed a single blow. Seriously! Was Burkhardt some kind of ninja mutant? That synchronized attack between Robinson and Peters (or “Spiky” and “Mohawk”, as Sgt. Franco had so colorfully put it) should have at least left her with a beautiful stab wound to present as evidence. But alas, nary a scratch.  
  
She’d offered to cut him a little, manufacture some evidence, but the coward refused. You’d think he’d want these guys put away for a long time, too.  
  
Lauren looked again at Assault in the Fourth Degree, but a judge had once ruled that a mere torn shirt did not equal physical injury, and Burkhardt didn’t have even that. She couldn’t even get the bastards for assaulting a police officer for the same damn reason…  
  
The worst she could convict them of was Attempt, Unlawful Use of a Weapon, Carrying Concealed, and Menacing. Menacing! At least the first two were felonies, but they’d probably plea bargain out and cop to the misdemeanors, get out in eighteen months. True, Rose Evans had given Burkhardt a bruise, plus minor cuts from the glass. But Evans had come late to the scene – she could claim mistaken defense of another. And Burkhardt hadn’t even required stitches. That wouldn’t play well before a jury.  
  
All this video evidence, and not one good, media-frenzy case. Damn that Burkhardt! She’d never make mayor at this rate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLOOPER REEL
> 
> What Lauren isn't telling you is that she asked to inspect Nick for wounds personally. Hank broke into uncontrollable guffaws (yes, 'laughter' is too benign a word) and Nick demanded that Juliet be present because of the earlier Ariel fiasco. Lauren got a little distracted at the magnificence that is a bare-chested Nick and may have drooled a little. She inspected him _thoroughly_ , running her hands along his stomach and sides to check for little punctures the eyes might miss. Juliette stood in the corner the whole time, arms crossed, alternately amused - and fuming. 
> 
> (What Nick isn't telling you is that after the inspection, Juliette took him home and made some very proprietary ... claims. Nick thought he might let other women feel him up more often if this was the reaction he got at home.)


	3. CHEQUE, PLEASE

Juliette had the TV turned on low during girl-night, in case they wanted something else to talk about. She half-listened as – “This is Sophie Soong, Channel 7 NEWS, coming to you LIVE from outside the scene where earlier today, an unidentified police officer was allegedly accosted by three violent attackers, right outside this main street restaurant. You can see from the broken glass it must have been pretty violent. We are trying to get footage now from the security cameras. We will get that to you as soon as possible. But while we wait, let’s hear from some of the people who witnessed the event.”  
  
Sophie walked up and stuck her microphone into the face of one of the crowd who’d gathered.  
  
“Sir, what can you tell me about what happened here just a few minute ago?”  
  
“Well, I was sitting inside with my friends, when out the window I see Greg and his mates take on this little guy. I guess he was a cop. Anyway, they take him on thinkin’ he’s gonna be easy meat, but I guess Portland trains ‘em good or something, cause they got their a**** kicked. You wouldna thought it to look at ‘im.”  
  
Little guy? Juliette perked up, her conversation tapering off. Please tell me Wu’s alright. She turned up the volume and her guest gave silent support.  
  
Another guy added his two cents. “Yeah, man. I mean, the cop wasn’t a dwarf but he wasn’t some Arnold Schwarzenegger either. Greg and his friends are really stacked. And then they pulled out weapons. Like, a big mother******* knife and sh**. So we’re expecting to see blood gushing and bones snapping, but that dude was like f****** Spiderman the way he went all bendy and stuff. Just totally kicked the sh- snot out of them.” He cleaned his language at long last, finally noticing Ms. Soong’s increasing glare.  
  
Spiderman? Couldn’t be Wu.  
  
Sophie moved her microphone to the young ladies next in line. “He was hot.”  
  
“It was like he had eyes in the back of his head or summat, ‘cause he didn’t even look when he disarmed Greg behind him.”  
  
“A Spidey-sense, just like I was sayin’!” Guy number two butted in.  
  
“Cuter than Toby Maguire!” Girl number one.  
  
Was it Scott? Scott’s cute. But little? Depends who you put him next to, I guess.  
  
“He was reaaal good, like, nothing wasted. Just move here, and move there, didn’t even blink when that knife passed right over his stomach by inches.” Girl number two.  
  
“He had really great abs!” Girl 2 finally glared at Girl 1. Girl 2 turned back to the mike.  
  
“He knew what he was doing and he didn’t even hurt the other guys when he took ‘em down. That takes real skill. Easier to hurt people than to hold back. I know, ‘cause I got a blue belt. He even caught Joey from falling so he wouldn’t hurt himself with that silly knife of his. And then he just cuffed Greg, calm as you please, while Greg was still swinging at ‘im.”  
  
Was it Hank? Hank’s smooth. But I wouldn’t call him little.  
  
“But the level of violence… Then how did the window get broken?”  
  
“Rosie mashed him right through the window after the fight. Had him splayed out on the table –”  
  
“–I’d like him on the table. Then I could eat him up.” Glare.  
  
“–and was straddling him when the other officers arrested her.”  
  
“I’d let him arrest me any time.” Girl 2 rolled her eyes. Girl 1 continued. Even the more even-headed Girl 2 had to nod her agreement. “He’s such a cute puppy.”  
  
NICK! Juliette grabbed for her phone.  
  
“Well, there you have it, folks.” Sophie started to wrap up when she spotted a new arrival. “There’s Captain Sean Renard just arriving on the scene. Let’s see what he can tell us about today’s events.”  
  
Juliette paused, then dialed.  
  
Sophie ran after him, cameraman in tow.  
  
“Captain Renard! What can you tell me about today’s events?”  
  
He power-walked on by. His phone rang.  
  
“What is the name of the officer assaulted?” Sophie got a little more aggressive with the microphone.  
  
“No comment.” He fished out his phone.  
  
“What kind of training do officers typically receive that allows them to handle this kind of situation?”  
  
At that he paused. “Our training program is very rigorous, and field officers must maintain a minimum standard of fitness and combat rating.” He resumed walking.  
  
“Is this officer one of your best?”  
  
“ALL of our officers are the best men and women I could ever have the privilege of commanding.”  
  
“When can we have access to the footage?”  
  
“No comment.” He answered the phone.  
  
Sophie put a finger to her ear piece. “Actually, it looks like our tech department was able to get a hold of some of that footage.” Renard glared and stormed off. Sophie turned to the camera. “We will get that officer's name for you as soon as we have it. Meanwhile… we will stream the security footage to you now. Parental discretion is advised.”  
  
Juliette asked in a rush, “Is he alright?”  
  
“He fine,” Renard answered, now off-camera. “That’s all I know.”  
  
She hung up.  
  
“Nick?” Juliette’s guest asked. “You think it was Nick?”  
  
The video started to stream. They watched in silence as Nick took down thugs 1, 2 and 3.  
  
“Whoa! That was Nick! You are so lucky, girlfriend.”  
  
Then Rosie threw Nick through the window. The camera didn’t follow.  
  
“No! What happened?”  
  
“What that tart said. She’s feeling him up. If it were me, I’d be feeling him up, too.”  
  
“Ruth! Hands off my guy!”  
  
“Well, someone has to check him for injuries, and you are just too close to the situation. Too distraught,” Ruth teased. “Better leave it to someone impartial.”  
  
Juliette picked up her stapler and mock-threatened her with it. “Everyone else had better just keep their hands off of my guy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hear that, Ruth? Hands off her guy! :) Ruth was a reviewer on fanfiction.net who wanted to take Lauren's place in chapter 2, so I was inspired to write this addition. 
> 
> I did consider extending the story another chapter or two where the guys rib Nick at the station and put him in a contest where he gets to show more bad-assery, but I figured it would make the story drag on too long, and that the story was fine as they stood. I actually have the start of a chapter 4 along those lines, entitled "The Morning After the Night Before – Or, Poor Nick; Even After That, He Still Gets No Respect" so if anyone wants to see it, let me know and I'll post it. 
> 
> If anyone wants to do a remix of chapter 1, I'd love to see another author's take on it. I'd especially like the story from Nick's perspective. The story is post Bad Moon Rising. The story may or may not be post-zombie. Up to you. If you choose to make the thugs wesen (I haven’t decided if they are or not, but if they are,) then I think they should be Skalengeck. Just look at the Grimm wikia’s description of their behavior: “They are a species not renowned for their intelligence, or width of knowledge. They are often aggressive, irrational, and violent. This can lead them to try and take on far superior opponents.” But you can take liberties and make it any wesen you want. Or make them human. 
> 
> For that matter, I'd take a remix or spin-off of any chapter or Blooper Reel. :) Any takers?


	4. The Morning After the Night Before – Or, Poor Nick; Even After That, He Still Gets No Respect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter begins an incomplete story line that is unlikely to be continued.

G-R-I-M-M

Nick walked into the precinct. He should have slinked in. The boys and girls of Major Crimes were ready for him. Too bad he wasn’t ready for them. 

G-R-I-M-M

“Hey, Puppy!”

“Good morning, Spider-Man.”

“Howsit going, ninja?”

Nick, blushing now, just tried to make it to his seat. The gang crowded his path, throwing mock, slo-mo punches and kicks. Nick nimbly avoided them all, to rounding applause. Finally he made it to his desk and sat down. He must have forgotten it was a rolling chair. The next thing he knew, he was being rolled away from his desk and back in the middle of the mob. 

“Uh, guys?”

Hoyo perched against a desk and Franco grabbed a seat and sat backwards, facing Nick. The interrogation began. 

“So,” Franco asked. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Just instinct, I guess.”

“And how did you lean back like that without wrenching your back?” Hoyo asked. 

“Yoga.”

“Yoga?” Franco again. 

“I’m pleading the fifth on the grounds that Juliette will kill me if I talk about our sex life.”

The crowd chuckled. Franco just blinked. 

“How did you know that Buzz was behind you with the chain?”

“I saw the reflection in the window. Plus he was noisy.” 

“Is that so?” Hoyo drew the question out. 

Without thinking, Nick reached behind his head and plucked a missile out of thin air. He examined what he’d caught; it turned out to be a stress ball. A familiar stress ball. Nick looked back the way it had come. Hank smiled back at him – the traitor. 

“Huh,” Franco said. “And in what reflection did you see that?”

“And how would you hear it over the racket these schmucks are making?” 

“Admit it, Burkhardt. You’ve got a Spidey-sense. Who’s your alter-ego?”

“Guys! I am a DE-TEC-TIVE. Trained to predict, not react. I know you guys. Of course _someone_ was going to test me at just that moment,” Nick lied through his teeth. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll give you that one. But those were some sweet moves yesterday. I don’t remember you being that good at last year’s group fitness eval.” 

“Well, I guess I’ve improved.” 

“This year’s evals are in a week.” 

“Burkhardt’s exempt,” Renard said, walking in. “Instructor Rojas saw the video and said he passed with flying colors. Nick, you can attend if you want to, but you don’t have to. The rest of you WILL be there and I hope to see improvements from you, too.” 

“But aren’t we already ‘the best men and women you could ever have the privilege of commanding’? Hard to improve on ‘best’.” Wu didn’t exactly snark – it _was_ the Captain – but he came close.

“Sergeant, you should know better than to believe what you hear on the news,” Renard reprimanded, the tease in his tone almost going sub-vocal. He could give as good as he got; he just preferred to be subtle about it. “Now back to work.” 

G-R-I-M-M

Nick was smart enough to stay away from the annual evaluations. It’s just too bad he wasn’t smart enough not to take a bet without knowing the stakes. 

“I lost?!”

“I guess you didn’t know that Wu was a champion paperclip football player,” Hank said. 

It was true. He’d hit through the goalposts every time. Nick had mostly broken his paperclips. Damn that Grimm strength sometimes. 

Nick sighed. “So what’s the forfeit?”

“You have to participate in this year’s intramural sports tournament,” Wu cackled. 

“What? No! I’m busy that week.” 

“Do you even know what dates it is?”

“I’m busy whenever it is.”

“Nope. You lost the bet, you pay the price. Bwa ha ha.” 

“Which sport?”

“All of them.”

“All of them?”

“Weelll… definitely the martial arts one. And track. Shooting. Swimming.” 

“How are you choosing all of these?”

“Well, the fighting is obvious. I’ve seen you run. I’ve seen your shooting scores at the range. And I heard you were underwater for a very long time rescuing the Mahario girl, so you should be good at swimming. Plus Laurie down in booking bribed me to see you in a swimsuit.”

Nick groaned. Wu chortled. Hank made bad puns: “If all the women see you as a puppy, would the swimming competition make you a wet dog?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. The chapter jumps hither and yon and ultimately leads nowhere. While the beginning is cute (I hope), Hank-the-grinning-imp is repetitive from Chapter 1. Still, enjoy.


End file.
